Absolutes
by Second Star On The Left
Summary: Gotham has always been a city of absolutes, and there's nothing quite so absolute as power. Post TDKR, Gotham-as-a-character-centric, contains OCs.


"Talia al-Ghul is dead."

Bruce put out a hand, nudged Selina behind him.

"I know you," he said to the woman who had appeared in their room. "You were in Nepal."

She had been, he'd met her while he was training with the League, he remembered her because she'd been so different to the other acolytes. She moved with a feline grace not unlike Selina's, but tighter, sharper – the sort of grace Bruce might have had, had he trained for longer with the League.

She was beautiful. She'd given her name as Lily, then, and as Rose another time, and Angeline, and Sophia, a different name every time they slept together. She'd grown up in the temple, according to some rumours, had arrived as a small child, brought by one of the full members of the League. She was half-Nepalese, half-French according to those same rumours, but Bruce had always believed there was little point in believing any of those rumours. The League had been built on lies and pretence, after all.

It was entirely possible that she was Talia al-Ghul. With the League, you just never knew.

"What do you want?"

* * *

"Wayne Towers gets uglier every time I look at it," Alfred sighed, opening the door of the Rolls for Scout. "Come along, Master Wayne, let's see what Mister Fox has for us today."

Scout looked up at the fabled expanse of his father's company, wondered how the hell they were supposed to come back from complete bankrupcy and the absolute annhilation of their reputation, and kind of wished that he was still at school in London. At least there, his surname hadn't meant enough to have everyone staring at him all the time. Here, he had to worry about that, the rumours about his dad, the rumours and the truth about his mum, as well as all this crap about Wayne Enterprises. He really didn't want any of it, but it was either accept his responsibilities or do like his parents and abandon Gotham now when she needed them most.

Well, maybe that was unfair to Dad. He'd stood and fought. He'd risked everything, given everything, but Scout still felt like he'd given up. He'd seen the specs for the Bat, he'd helped Dad rewrite the autopilot programme, he knew the autopilot was functional, but Dad had still chosen to fly the damn thing out himself. He'd commited suicide by heroism, and Scout hated him for that.

He hated Mum for staying away from Gotham, for refusing to use her contacts to bring in help from the outside while Bane had been in control. He hated that she'd used him as an excuse to stay out of danger while Evan and Tommy and Peyton and Ollie and Mo, the people who were supposed to be her family, were trapped.

"Master Wayne?"

Scout looked back over his shoulder to Alfred, who had one eyebrow raised in polite question.

"I'm sorry, Alfred," he sighed, shaking his head. "It's just..."

It was completely overwhelming, seeing Gotham like this, like a ruin. He'd grown up mostly in London, but he'd spent every summer and every Christmas in Gotham and had considered it his home, sort of. His family – both sides of his family – had built Gotham, and he loved it.

He wondered if Mum had ever not hated Gotham for breaking her family.

"I understand, sir," Alfred said, and Scout thought that maybe Alfred did. In some ways, Scout was all Alfred had left, since Dad had died. Scout was all anyone whod' relied on or believed in the Waynes had left, and just about all that was left for anyone who needed the Monroes, because Evan was dying and nobody trusted a word Mum said anymore.

"I'm only seventeen, Alfred," he whispered, running a hand through his hair. "How the hell am I supposed to do all this?"

* * *

Ophelia sat with her fingers pressed to her temples, waiting for the deafening racket of the board to subside.

"If you're quite done," she said quietly, lifting her head and looking at each man in the eye. "I believe we have more important things to concern ourselves with than my recent absence."

"It's your cowardice we're worried about, Miss Monroe," someone muttered – she couldn't be certain who – and the others ground out an agreement.

"And what would you have me do, then?" she asked. "Would you have me hand over control of the company to my brother? Or to my son?"

"Your son is doing better with Wayne Enterprises than you are here."

That stung – genius or no, it hurt that Scout seemed to have a greater natural aptitude for business that she could ever have learned, that he was making better of the nothing Bruce had left in his wake than she was of the wealth still hers. Lucius Fox's help or not, Scout was making a mockery of her.

No, she reminded herself, I'm making a mockery of myself, and everyone knows it. Evan had given her a strict talking to only days before about not making a fool of herself, about not letting her ego get the better of her.

Easier said than done, when her seventeen year old untrained, unpracticed son was doing better than she ever had.

Then again, he wasn't really untrained – Scout had been the only person aside from Alfred to see Bruce on a regular basis after Rachel's death, and who knew what Bruce had taught him? Who knew how Bruce had taken advantage of Scout's intellect?

He might have taken advantage of Scout's intellect, but he'd left him with nothing but problems. Scout had gotten Wayne Enterprises, and he was caretaker of Bruce's estate in partnership with Alfred, but the manor and the grounds and everything that should have been Scout's, it had all gone to the city. He'd amended his will to include Scout, alright, the bastard.

"Alright then, gentlemen," Ophelia said, leaning back in her chair and watching her board over her glasses. "I assume you have some plan to remove me from operational power and render me nothing more than a figurehead – present it to me, if you would."

* * *

"She tried to destroy your city," Selina said, "she pretends to be someone she's not, and she hides the fact that you have a kid from you until after she's orchestrated your death, and... You're going back to Gotham so you can have something to do with the kid?"

Bruce shrugged.

"I missed out on most of Scout's life already," he said. "I'm doing this as much for him as for me-"

"Your other son is going to hate you for this," Selina pointed out. "He thinks you're dead,Bruce. This is the second time since he was born that you let everyone think you were dead."

"I'm his father, Selina."

"And you've abandoned him, Bruce! Twice! And you're going to just waltz back into his life with another son?!"

"If I don't waltz back in, Talia's going to march right in with this other son of mine and try to take everything from Scout – and who's going to stop her? Alfred?"

"Scout's mother, maybe? He has plenty of father figures, too, you've said it yourself, and you know that if you try and get between these people and what they want-"

"They want power," Bruce said sharply. "They can't destroy Gotham, so they want to control it. I have to be there to stop them."

"There are other people, Bruce! People who don't wear masks!"

"I am not leaving my family open to attack from these people, Selina!" he shouted. "I'm leaving for Gotham in the morning, and you can come with me if you want, but if you're going to keep on like this you may as well stay here!"

* * *

**AN: **_Welcome to what has fondly been referred to as the Urban Thriller for the past few months, a... new take on my vision of the Nolanverse, as seen in my previous writings for this fandom._  
_Here, though, instead of following the Nolanverse plot, we follow on from the Nolanverse – welcome to Gotham in the wake of Bane, but with a few additions that previous readers of my fic will recognise. Kind of._  
_To those new to my fic, well, I hope that everything will be cleared up as we go along._  
_This all begins roughly a year after The Dark Knight Rises. Everything else should, hopefully, become clear. Old friends and new alike from my fic and from canon, and hopefully (so much hoping, dear God) you'll enjoy it._


End file.
